


Sometimes, August is Just Too Hot

by LaLunaBitch



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bottom Peter Parker, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Omega Peter Parker, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pepper and Tony aren't a thing anymore, Top Tony Stark, Virgin Peter Parker, all this, over a fucking super suit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLunaBitch/pseuds/LaLunaBitch
Summary: First, Peter gets bit by a radioactive spider, then he presents as an omega. What shit luck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So even though I joined back a while ago and I'm terribly inactive in the community, I've decided to give writing some Peter x Tony a shot! This work is not intended to be long, maybe 2 or 3 chapters with some good ole smut in it. I'm only posting the first chapter so just in case not many people enjoy it, I don't have to waste time writing the smut part. Please give me constructive critism, I know I can improve as a writer in many aspects! Also know that I'm not the most knowledgeable Marvel fan, so if I get anything wrong, sorry!
> 
> I actually started to write this right after I saw homecoming the weekend it came out, but I forgot about it for a long time when a couple of days ago I was scrolling through my notes and rediscovered it, and now I really want to finish and share it. I was just so entranced by Peter and Tony's interactions in the movie that I couldn't help but see a dynamic there. If you guys like it enough, expect some smut next chapter! :)

Peter's had better days, which is a bit of an understatement. He picks and pokes at the festering spider bite, sickly green ooze slipping from the wound. His wrists itch and his veins burn as the venom begins to seep into his blood. He knows that he should probably tell May that he needs to go to the hospital, but he can't find it in himself to call her. It might even affect his presentation, but at this point, he's not totally sure he's gonna get one at this point. All his classmates presented _ages_ ago. 15 is a normal time to present and all, but when everyone else around you is experiencing heats and ruts and all that sticky shit, it feels decades late. Second gender presentations get a bit muddled and medically complicated as time stretches--maybe the spider bite could somehow speed it along? Plenty of people have presented as a result of injury or stressful situations. Guaranteed, it usually isn't that pleasant, but when does anything ever go Peter's way?  
  
He sighs and tries pasting another bandaid over the bite, wiping away the revolting fluid. "Fuck," he mutters as he tosses a few tissues in the trash. The wound throbs and pulses and sears like all hell, but Peter knows he'll make it through. May doesn't need to know. She already has too much to worry about.  


  


* * *

  
Webs. Fucking webs. Shooting out of his hands.  
  
Sticky palms, flexible body, perfect balance. Peter definitely could've had things worse, to say the least.  
  


* * *

  
Maybe he's like one of them. The Avengers. Peter's always  ~~idolized~~ admired the superheroes of New York. He has a particularly strong memory of seeing Tony Stark once as a child, when the aliens first descended upon the city. Stark was all geared up in his Iron Man suit, zipping through Manhattan, kicking some villainous ass.  
  
Peter knows he can't hope for something like them. While Stark Industries pours millions upon millions into perfecting supersuits, Peter is stitching together his sad excuse for an outfit with May's old threads. The Avengers are out there taking down major players while Peter's attempting to end a burglary every other night. He isn't making much of a difference in the world, let alone NYC.  
  
Mr. Stark himself proves Peter wrong once he shows up on his doorstep.  
  


* * *

  
Tony is interested in the kid, to say the least. Most unpresented boys his age are all gangly and limbs and haven't a scrap of meat on their bones, but the street training has filled in Peter's muscles, alerting to some potential. Tony didn't have a choice in bringing the teen to Berlin. And he knows he's teased him enough even with only one battle. Peter  _wants_  this, it was beyond obvious. But with the kid still being unpresented, his health is a seriously high risk. The job is already incredibly dangerous as a fully presented and grown alpha man. How could just a boy even compete?  
  
Peter fights everything Tony says.  
  
"Why can't I just continue in the Bronx?" The teen persists.  
  
Tony's decision more than upsets Peter.  
  
"We both know the risks you take as an unpresented," the man states. Peter's face flushes a deep scarlet red each time Tony acknowledges the boy's lack of second gender. "Your body cannot withstand great injury without the benefits that come with being an alpha, or even a beta."  
  
Peter can read between the lines. Stark is sending a silent message:  _No omegas._  It isn't an official rule for the Avengers to be made up of purely alphas and betas, but goddamn, the media certainly has noticed the absence of the less common sex within the group. Mr. Stark has been criticized in the past for composing his team of mostly bulky alphas and the occasional beta thrown in.  
  
Peter closes his mouth. He will report as an alpha or beta in due time, he tells Mr. Stark.  
  
Things happen to go wrong the day Peter spirals into heat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for your kind words and kudos <3 they all make me want to write more! I hope this chapter suffices enough for now ;)

It's a relatively nice day in the Bronx, sun shining behind the clouds and a breeze flowing through the trees. Ned invited Peter over to play some good ole Lego Star Wars after school, but he wasn't feeling too well, so Peter turned him down. He feels itchy and uncomfortable and  _hot,_ like fire ants are crawling under his skin. He can barely detect an oncoming pressure building in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Peter slings his backpack onto his bed, scratching long red marks across his neck. He jerks the fan on, opens the window, slaps cold water onto his face, but nothing seems to sedate the heat radiating from his body.  
  
Like all unpresented, he doesn't have the best sense of smell. He can detect flashes of food, the city, here and there on a normal day, but now, every aroma from around the block seems to flood into his room. He never realized how much the apartment already smells like omega, like sweet violet May and all her perfumes. Hints of his late uncle still nestle in corners of certain rooms.  
  
As he lays in bed, clawing at his clothes, he contemplates putting on the suit and doing a couple rounds. Maybe some sweat would make him feel better. Yeah, Mr. Stark would know if he even touched the damned thing, but it's just a little swinging and jumping here and there. Mr. Stark takes the Ironman suit on a little cruise every now and then, right? Peter only wants to get out and breathe a little fresh air.  
  
The teen jumps up from bed, his skin buzzing. He hasn't worn his suit in so long. Ever since Mr. Stark condemned him to a forced hiatus, Peter has dreamed of getting back into action again. Even the simplest crimes on the news tempt him like sweets and honey, each inviting him to crawl back into his second skin and resume his work. Sometimes he pulls the suit out of its case whenever May isn't home. His fingers glide over the material and he can see the glaze over the eyes flicker, signalling that Happy or Mr. Stark is watching.  
  
Not knowing why, Peter throws caution to the wind.

* * *

  
Tony seems to have worked out a schedule of keeping an eye on Peter.  
  
The kid likes to open up the case and examine the suit on Tuesdays and Thursdays, whenever May is working late and won't arrive home unexpectedly. He picks at the web design and repeatedly runs his fingers over the ridges. Sometimes he even traces the spider symbol on the chest. Tony imagines that Peter really weighs the consequences that come with being a hero, that come with wearing the suit. He will be better than Tony would have been at that age. Who the fuck knows how he would've been like with his suit as a teenager? Peter is so eager to serve and protect, while it's more likely Tony would have used the suit as a toy.  
  
It's been 2 months since Tony forbade the kid from participating in the field. He can tell Peter is growing more and more restless by the day, but Tony doesn't expect him to break the schedule.  
  
He does a double take on the notification that the suit is being tampered with. Tony sighs, rubbing his temple. "Goddamnit, Parker," he mutters before standing from his desk. He knows he can send the Iron suit by itself to take care of Peter, but something inside him tells him to go himself. Peter needs a lesson, and he won't listen unless Tony is actually there.

* * *

  
Peter's grown so unfamiliar with his powers, his stomach soars as he swoops through NYC. It was like that in the beginning of everything. He nearly pukes a few times after a couple rough spins, but he eventually becomes accustomed to the minor motion sickness.  
  
The aromas in the city do him no better. Everything smells like piss and sewage and cheap perfume; how did he never notice it before? Each block, Peter expects the sick concoction of fragrances to dissipate, but nothing changes. Even when swaying past restaurants or bakeries, their savory scents only briefly mingle before being overwhelmed by the stink of the city.  
  
Recklessly, Peter tried fiddling with the recording system. He'd somehow succeeded in temporarily cutting off the ability to film, but audio is still streaming straight to Mr. Stark's personal files.  
  
"Peter," Stark's voice weakly crackles in the teen's ears.  
  
_Fuck,_  Peter curses himself. He hadn't thought to cut off communications. "Uh, hey, Mr. Stark," Peter replies shakily.  
  
"Want to explain why you're taking the suit out when I specifically told you not to?"  
  
"It was hot inside."  
  
The line goes silent for a moment. Peter starts curving his direction deeper into the city center.  
  
"It was...hot inside?" Stark repeats slowly.  
  
Peter almost nods, then remembers that Stark can't see him. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Peter. It's August. It's hot everywhere."  
  
"I know," the teen stops on the roof of a flashy apartment complex, nearly panting at a sudden wave of heat blasting over his body. Sweat runs down his back and collects around his thighs. It's almost like he can feel every inch of skin on his body, all itchy and sore begging to be scratched. He settles on the scorching concrete and hisses at the temperature before scooting into the shade. "I know it's a terrible excuse, but I promise this is a one time event."  
  
"Oh, trust me, it is, Peter," Stark replies. "Because I'm coming to take the suit."  
  
"No! You can't, I--"  
  
"It's my suit, I built it, and I entrusted you with it for the time being so as you would have it by the time you presented, but obviously, you don't have enough patience for that."  
  
Without even thinking, Peter shucks off the mask and chucks it across the rooftop. His chest heaves as he fights back tears.  _God, why am I so emotional today?_ he asks himself. Each thought and feeling and smell seems amplified and intense beyond reason. The hair at the nape of his neck begins to curl, dampened by the sweat dripping from his head. Even in the shade, nothing suffices the teen's temper.  
  
Peter imagines Stark showing up, swaggering over in his suit. He never meant to upset him, just to take a little trip around town. It's too nice a day not to swing through the city.  
  
The teen sits and waits. Mr. Stark will show up soon.

* * *

  
Curses are spilling from Tony's mouth as he rockets across the city.  _Hot?_ Peter was fucking  _hot,_  and that's why he decided to take the fucking suit out? He never thought a teenager could be that dramatic. The kid has AC in the apartment, ice too, so what's the real deal? Tony can't chase away the suspicion buried deep in his gut. Something else has to be wrong.  
  
Before Tony can get another word out, it sounds like the mask is scraping against concrete. _Seems as if the little bastard threw it,_  he thinks exasperatedly to himself. The man starts organizing all the things he's gonna say to the kid when he lands. _Reckless, dangerous, stupid..._  
  
The building finally comes into view, along with Peter huddled in a little red ball against a wall. Tony steps onto the bank of the roof before approaching the crushed form. The kid's chest heaves as if he can't catch his breath, can't get enough air. "The fuck, do you have asthma?" Tony asks before he can even begin his speech about responsibility and heroism.  
  
Peter glares up at the older man, his brows knit together in confusion. Sweat glistens across his forehead and his cheeks are ripe red. He licks his lips before speaking. "Mr. Stark?" He squeaks out. His eyes seem distant and unfocused.  
  
"You look sicker than a dog, kid," the man notes hesitantly. Instinctively, Tony splays his metal-covered fingers across the teen's temple. He curses himself in his head; _dumbass_ , he can't feel shit from behind the thick coating around his body. But before he can retract his gesture, Peter's hand rushes up to grip Stark's wrist, and a small moan suddenly trails from the teen's mouth.   
  
"Sho cohld," Peter slurs through heavy lips, referring to the natural icy temperature of the suit. Tony's whole body goes stiff at the minute noises spilling from the teen.

After Pepper and Tony broke up, the millionaire weaponry mogul retired his old habits of sleeping around. He had grown weary of searching for that right Omega out there. Nothing seemed to entice him.

  
But the mewls coming from Peter's pert pink mouth are sending shivers down Tony's spine.  
  
"Alright, Parker, we can discipline you later," the man decides quickly, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood flowing toward his groin. "You're obviously sick or on some shit, which is a violation of your contract, I have you know."  
  
"Drugs or being sick?" Peter asks. His fingers leave steamy imprints across Tony's wrist.  
  
"Both," Stark replies half jokingly. He leans down and scoops the teen's crumpled form in his arms. Peter hisses at the change in positions.  
  
"Fuck," the kid mumbles under his breath. His thighs clench together but Tony tries to avoid looking at them as much as possible. He can feel Peter's lean muscles press into his metal fingers, the teen's well-trained calves balancing over his arm. He's not hard to hold, but he's definitely not light. Stark's throat runs dry and trite, and he can't figure out why. Maybe it is a hot day, like Peter said. After all, it's August.

* * *

  
Peter has always found Mr. Stark to be an attractive man, something he's not afraid to admit ~~but only t~~ ~~o people other than Tony.~~ Much of the public lusts after the bad boy billionaire with a long list of men and women under his belt. It's no secret that Tony Stark is a player, and while that should ward Peter off, damn if he doesn't like the way the older man holds him in his arms as they soar across the city. It's already evident that Stark has no real sexual intentions, considering that Peter is both underage and unpresented, but the teen can't help but nearly jolt as Tony grips the dip in his legs harder. He wants Stark to clutch hard enough to leave bruises, then work his way up Peter's thighs and leave more blemishes.  
  
Peter wishes he had kept the mask. His face burns bright crimson at the sudden thoughts racing through his brain; what has overcome him to think this way? Tony is a distant desire, one kept in the far corners of Peter's mind. He curses himself silently. He should know better than to let his desires wander so freely. He knows that he and Stark could never be anything but this odd superhero vs  ~~padawan~~ apprentice dynamic.  
  
Taking in all the vile and disgusting smells of the city, Peter tries to suppress an oncoming hard-on.  
  
"May is gonna kill me," the teen grumbles to himself as they slowly approach his apartment complex.  
  
"Kill you?" Tony quips. "Imagine what she'll do to me, bringing her nephew home while he's as feverish as an omega in heat."  
  
The notion strikes fear through Peter's chest, and for a brief moment, he feels stone cold.  
  
"Wouldn't be the first time I ever did that," Stark mumbles softly as they reach Peter's open window. Peter can feel his neck grow flush at the comment. How many omegas has Tony lain with?  
  
The older man gently deposits the teen inside his little room. Before Tony can slip another word out, Peter tries slamming the shutters on him.  
  
Stark swiftly blocks the blow, saying, "Peter, I've still gotta talk to you."  
  
Despite the fact that Tony has the mask over his face, the teen finds it hard to look him in the eyes. His thighs chafe and scorch in the skin tight suit, and he can feel that hard-on slowly coming back again. Little Peter Parker knows exactly what's going on now; he's too afraid to even admit it in his head.  
  
All the symptoms; heat, itch, blush, wild thoughts. Peter was one of the only kids that actually read the text book in _Second Gender Biology 101_ instead of just giggling at the pictures inside. Despite omegas being rather rare, especially in big cities, he recognizes all the characteristics. Now he can only hope to god that he's wrong; that it's fever or normal arousal or _anything_ but  thi _s._  And God help him if Mr. Stark figures it out.


End file.
